


Storms

by notjustmom



Series: Ironstrange [17]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-16 02:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17540564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: This is basically a riff on my diner story. Yesterday I originally wanted to do a fluffy bit of the boys, and it was raining all day, and this just sort of happened...





	1. Chapter 1

As a child, when the thunder and lightning of spring storms would send him to cower under his bed, shivering, his mother would lay down on the floor next to his bed and tell him of the day he was born. 

For two days, the sun had lurked behind the clouds, and the city seemed to hold its breath as the rain bided its time. The storm of the century was coming, the radios and headlines screamed from the newsstands, and yet at the moment he was born the winds changed, and the rain that fell did not bring disaster and splintered trees, but after an hour of gentle, nearly silent showers, the sun made an appearance at just the right moment to send a stream of light into his mother’s room, as he smiled for the first time.

She always told the story the same way, every single time, and each time as she whispered, “true story,” the thunder and lightning ended, and he would stop shivering, then crawl out from under the bed and into her arms. 

When he left for boarding school at the age of eight, he faced the storms on his own by closing his eyes and recalling his mother’s story, whispering ‘true story’ to himself over and over until the storm passed. Over time, he outgrew his fear of storms, and forgot the story completely until the day he ran into Stephen Strange.

 

It was pouring that morning, not the supposed gentle rain of the day of his birth, but a torrential storm, that seemed to come from nowhere, but as soon as Tony settled Stephen into the booth and sat down across from him, the rain ended, as if a faucet had been turned off. Tony watched in silence as Stephen demolished two breakfasts, and was about to make his escape, and get on with his life, but Tony reached out and took his hand, and for no reason at all told the beautiful stranger with the storm tossed eyes the story his mother told him on those nights when the storms found him.

Stephen glanced down at their joined hands, then looked up into Tony’s dark eyes and blinked, then squeezed his hand, and cleared his throat. “Thank you for breakfast -”

“Tony. Tony -”

“I know who you are. I’m Stephen, Stephen Strange. I’m of no consequence. Not yet, at any rate…” For once, Tony was struck speechless, and waited for Stephen to finish. “I stop here every day, rain or shine, around the same time. If you are here tomorrow, I’ll buy you coffee, and you can tell me that story again, or anything else that comes into your head. I have to go home and change -”

“I’ll be here.”

Stephen nodded. “I know. See you tomorrow, Tony.”

 

Stephen Strange didn’t believe in fairy tales, or fate, and most definitely, he did not believe in love at first sight. He wasn’t even sure he believed in love. Lust, sure, attraction, chemistry, those were concepts that he could make some sense of, but love? Love. No. He didn’t have the time, falling in love was not something he had planned for, it could only be a distraction. No, he wasn’t an it. The man sitting in the booth playing with the sugar packets was certainly not an it. He tried to look at him objectively, break him down into parts: unruly dark hair, auburn highlights when the sunlight hit it just right, dark brown eyes that crinkled at the corners already at the age of eighteen. He wanted to - he wanted to what?

“Wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he heard himself say.

The brown eyes smiled up at him as he dropped into the seat and studied him curiously for a brief moment, then he cleared his throat and shrugged. “I never turn down a free cup of coffee. Actually, to be honest, you are the first person to invite me to coffee who didn’t have an agenda, or at least not one I can see… yet.”

Stephen felt a storm churn through him, as he looked away from the eyes that seemed to read everything that he had spent most of his life hiding away. “D’ya want pie with it? I usually -”

“Sure.” The voice was amused, and the smile that had started in his eyes had spread to his lips, and Stephen found that he was having trouble finding words for the first time in his life.

“Right. I’ll be right back.” He walked to the counter, ordered coffee and pie for two, and tried not to return his waitress’ wink with a grin. 

“Don’t worry, he’s watching you, kiddo. His eyes haven’t left you since he spotted you outside.”

“Shit.”

“I’ve seen that look before. That boy is hooked, and why wouldn’t he be? He may have everything most people dream of, but he’s alone, just like you, and he is smart enough to know a catch when he sees one. Strawberry Rhubarb today, I threw some ice cream on the side, no charge, looks like an ice cream guy.”

“Thank you, Franny.”

“Go get him, kiddo.”

Stephen turned towards the table again, and couldn’t stop the grin this time, as Tony tried to look away in time, but failed. He carried the tray to the table and placed the coffee and pie in front of Tony, and watched his eyes close as he took a deep breath in. “My favorite.”

“Yeah. Mine too.” Stephen unloaded the tray, and handed it to Franny who had followed him to the table, then he sat down again.

Tony laughed as he picked up his fork, and winked at him. “I have the feeling pie will be one of the few things we will agree on.”

“And what will be the other?”

Tony put down his fork and gazed into Stephen’s eyes for a long moment, then shrugged. “Love at first sight is a crock and fairy tales aren’t real, but I love you anyway.” He picked up his fork again and took a big bite of pie. Stephen watched his face change from astonishment to joy, then he heard a groan of pleasure escape from the lips that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of, and at that moment, his heart, his mind and every other part of him belonged to Tony Stark. For a split second he tried to convince himself otherwise, but then Tony smiled at him again, and he knew it was far too late.

 

The next morning, Stephen arrived to find Tony already at their table with coffee and pie waiting for him. “It’s pouring outside,” he said unnecessarily as Tony was soaked from head to toe, and the hands that were wrapped around his mug of coffee were shivering. “Don’t you believe in umbrellas?”

Tony grinned at him and shrugged. “I believe in them, I just don’t mind storms so much anymore.”

“Oh, yeah?” Stephen raised an eyebrow at him then dropped into his seat.

Tony put down his mug, and reached out to take Stephen’s hand in his, then lifted it slowly to his mouth and brushed his lips over his knuckles. “Stephen?”

“Hmm? Yeah?”

“Is this okay?” Stephen nodded, and Tony went on carefully. “I don't - I haven't, not really. I know a lot about everything, but this -" His breath caught as Tony began kissing his fingers, then cradled his hand in both of his, then looked up and met his eyes.

“Me either.”

“We can learn together, then,” Tony whispered, then smiled at him again, and nodded towards the window. Stephen turned to see that the storm had passed as if it had never happened. He turned back to find Tony standing next to him, offering him his hand, and the coffee and pie were forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

They end up in Stephen’s apartment building, because it is closer. The elevator is out of order again, but it doesn’t matter; by the time they have climbed up the four flights of stairs, they are beyond exhausted, but they don’t care.

Tony leans against the wall as Stephen swears at the door that always sticks after a storm, but it finally opens after Stephen puts his shoulder into it. His shoulder hurts like hell, but when Tony takes his hand and leads him into the tiny studio apartment the pain becomes a distant memory. Words are meaningless here, as Tony’s fingers tease at the edge of his t-shirt, and it is soon lifted over his head, then he is gently pushed against the door. He hears the rough click of the lock and all is silent. 

Warm brown eyes grow darker, work roughened hands find his own and he lets himself be walked into the room, the room he keeps only for those nights when he manages to get home to sleep when he can no longer study. He isn’t sure what to expect, but he knows he doesn’t expect the gentleness as Tony sits him down on the edge of the bed, kisses him once, then whispers, “you haven’t slept in days, I know, because I haven’t either. I’ve spent the last three days thinking of nothing but you. When I tried to sleep, all I could see was your eyes smiling at me, like I’m an idiot, like you are right now. I know you think you need to study, but right now, all we’re going to do is sleep, if that’s alright with you.”

Stephen can do nothing else but nod, and Tony is kneeling in front of him, removing his soaked sneakers, and ancient socks, putting them aside, then his fingers are on the waistband of his weathered and rain-dampened denim shorts and Tony looks up into Stephen’s exhausted eyes and he nods again, sighing as the shorts slide down his legs and to the floor. He keeps his eyes locked onto Tony’s as the younger man quickly undresses, letting the clothes fall from his fingers, into a pile on the old wood floor. He would normally care, but he finally realizes how truly tired he is, as Tony collapses into the double bed next to him and wraps a strong arm around his waist. Slowly, he eases down onto the bed and breathes out a sigh of relief as Tony presses his chest against his back and drapes a leg over him, and he knows he’s never felt safer in his life, as he drifts off to sleep.

For once the nightmares from his childhood are absent, and as he slowly opens his eyes to a darkened room, he realizes he has slept more in one day than he has in the last couple of weeks. His eyes refocus and land on Tony, who reaches out to push an errant curl behind his ear. It should be unsettling, to have someone in his bed at all, not to mention watching him sleep, but instead he lays his hand over Tony’s chest and waits until he can feel the racing heartbeat in his fingertips. There is something wild, yet calming about the man next to him. There are questions he should ask, like why he is here in a crappy studio apartment with a poor med student when he could be with anyone, but instead, he lifts his hand from Tony’s chest, and traces his bottom lip with a single finger, then moves closer and kisses him, and as he draws back to look into the dark eyes, the only words that come to mind are of a rhetorical nature. “You stayed.”

Tony grins at him and nods. “Yeah, doll-face, I stayed.”


End file.
